


We Don't Always Get What We Want

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-01
Updated: 2008-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-27 06:48:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12075729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian's thoughts on once unwelcome blonde intrusions upon his life.





	We Don't Always Get What We Want

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

I never wanted him. I never wanted his beat-up hoody hanging in my closet next to imported Chinese silk. I didn't ask for chocolate chip cookie crumbs to grow stale in the cracks of my very expensive sofa cushions. The sight of over-used ragged Nikes thrown haphazardly under the edge of a white sofa, small chips of dried mud daring me to scream, was never listed on my carefully meditated-upon decor plan. High performance, high dollar stereo equipment was not purchased with the intent to blow forth the distorted sounds of insanely talent disabled individuals that he insists on listening to.   


I don't remember signing up for daily lectures from an upbeat blonde college left-over or an overbearing, wig wearing pseudo-gay man about the nurturous raising of sensitive twinks. My heavy loft door does not have a revolving hinge, because it was never intended to welcome the massive influx of concerned mothers, interferring lesbians, or chirpy brown-headed fag hags that seem to be drawn to it by an adorable little blonde magnet. My life has been invaded by a mass of contradictions - curfews and orgies, school projects and work deadlines, milk and Jack Bean.

My mind seems to insist upon thinking of him throughout the day - when I use a pen that seems to be the exact shade of his eyes, when I see a folder sitting on my desk that tells me that he never finished his homework last night, when a box of tissues sitting in the corner of my office whispers that his allergy medicine is ready and waiting for pick-up at the pharmacy, when a jaw-cracking yawn pops a lustful reminder of why I am required to work on so little sleep today. 

I didn't ask to wake up every morning smelling the sweet musky scent of his body all over my pillow -hell, all over my skin- or missing the scent on those rare mornings he left before dawn. I never intended to be drawn to the taste of the back of his neck where I know there's a highly charged spot that makes his body glow from the touch of my lips like a over-heated halogen lamp. The sight of his face lighting up in happiness over a unintended slip of personal attention I threw his way was not supposed to make my lips twitch in response. I never expected to feel sharp knives digging into the neather regions of my chest at the sight of pleading blue eyes overflowing with wet sadness when I resorted to rudeness to hide my growing acceptance of circumstances that seem to be completely out of control.   
  
My hands were never trained to ignore my common sense, yet I can't seem to stop them from drawing him closer to curl against my chest. Neither can I keep the traiterous things from softly stroking his hair like a love-sick school boy. My unruly fingers disregard my strict commands and insist on dialing the phone everyday so my itching ears can hear his voice teasing me about "needing him, wanting him, loving him". 

No, I never wanted him. Thank God we don't always get what we want.  
  



End file.
